


Oh My, What Large Teeth You Have

by peregrinetoad



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Werewolf Patrick Stump, Werewolves, monstrous werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-22 18:59:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17668289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peregrinetoad/pseuds/peregrinetoad
Summary: Patrick’s a werewolf.Pete has a thing for things which could eat him.





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick’s teeth were aching. Maybe that wasn’t the right word - he wasn’t in pain, he didn’t need to go to the dentist - but he laid awake in his bunk alternating between silently snarling at the air and shoving fabric into his face to bite down on. He suppressed the growl in his chest, threatening to crawl up his throat and wake everyone up. The sound of his pitiful attacks on his bedsheets, which achieved nothing more than to leave patches of dampness on his pillow, were already louder than he’d have liked. 

There wasn’t much point in tracking the phases of the moon; Patrick wasn’t likely to forget about the change when he felt like he was tossing and turning inside his own skin. He knew it wasn’t possible, but it didn’t stop him from trying to push his teeth out of his gums and force his bones to rearrange themselves a night early - but Patrick had never been able to change at will. He’d met others who could, and had had his fair share of random changes more linked to sudden, intense emotion than to the phases of the moon, but he had never had any control. 

Patrick laid on his stomach and held himself tense and still, his eyes scanning the darkness around him. He could clearly see every crease in the sheets around him - his heightened senses were sometimes a perk, but on nights like this only made him feel more like the monster he was as his instincts forced him to stay alert and evaluate the potential prey around him. 

He heard Joe turn over in his sleep, and Andy’s slow, quiet breaths, as they both had gotten used to sleeping through Patrick’s night-time frenzy. The bus’s engine was rumbling all around him, and the road was rushing past under him, and he heard a stifled yawn from the driver’s seat. That was another reason why Patrick had to stay quiet when he was like this; his bandmates were the only ones who knew what he was. 

Pete’s bunk was directly above Patrick’s, but Pete wasn’t asleep. His heartbeat proved he was wide awake, and most likely listening to Patrick thrash about. Pete had offered many times to let Patrick hang out in his bunk with him - neither of them were sleeping anyway, so there was no reason why Patrick had to be alone for this- but Patrick didn’t trust himself. 

He hated the way his heart-rate sped up as he listened to Pete’s, and his claws, hands, twitched as his mind was filled with images of how easy it would be to rip Pete apart. The hunger was harder to ignore at night. His nostrils flared as he took in the smell of Pete, and thought about sinking canine teeth into warm, tender flesh-- Patrick shook his head, as if to clear his gruesome thoughts, and whined sadly into his pillow. So much for being quiet. 

Moments later, he heard a tell-tale shuffle above him as Pete dropped down from his bunk and slowly, carefully, climbed into Patrick’s. Patrick tried to keep still, but as soon as he felt the heat of Pete’s body next to him he had his hands fisted in Pete’s shirt, holding him close. 

“Are you okay?” Pete whispered into the darkness. Patrick held him tighter, and shook his head, not trusting himself to speak without snarling. Pete wrapped his arms around Patrick, a welcome comfort against the sensation of Patrick’s spine being ready to stretch and warp at any moment. Patrick buried his face in Pete’s neck and breathed in the scent of friend-Pete-pack, relieved that his senses had stopped telling him Pete was prey, and slowly drifted off into a restless sleep. 

—— 

When Patrick awoke next, the engine was silent, and Pete was next to him, furiously scribbling in one of the many black notebooks he brought with him. Pete claimed they all served a distinct purpose, and he could tell the difference. Patrick never knew which notebook the pages he was handed came from. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, but what came out was a soft bark. Pete looked up, hurriedly closing the notebook and dropping the pen in the process, and Patrick tried again. 

“Hi,” he managed, his voice hoarse and strained. It was difficult to speak to close to the change. 

“How are you feeling? Your eyes…” Pete trailed off. Patrick nodded - he had no way of knowing when his eyes had turned gold and reflective, as it had no effect on his vision, but he’d expected they would be by now. 

Patrick stayed quiet, afraid that any attempt to speak would result in him barking or growling at Pete. Suddenly he felt fingers interlocking with his own, and looked down to see Pete’s hand in his. 

“You remember that guy Andy told you about? With the werewolf cage in his basement?” 

Patrick racked his brain. His memory of conversations was fuzzy, although he could easily recall everything he’d smelled since leaving home. He nodded slowly - he remembered something about how a cage might be better than trying to chain him up on the bus like they usually did when he changed on tour. 

Pete smiled. He knew how hard it was for Patrick to remember things. “Do you want to see the cage first, or wait until tonight?” Patrick didn’t really want to look at the place where he would be caged all night, and a growl escaped him before he could stop it. He looked at Pete fearfully, but Pete didn’t seem phased by Patrick growling at him, he just leaned over and wrapped his arms around him. 

Patrick lurched forward, toppling them both out of the bunk and onto the floor of the bus, Patrick still with his arms wrapped possessively around a laughing Pete. Patrick could never quite believe how much patience Pete had for him - although he had never told Pete about his hunger. It was a sobering thought, and Patrick climbed off Pete and wandered into the lounge, trying not to allow himself to be tempted. It seemed that every time he tried to stay away from Pete, he ended up getting closer.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick’s hair prickled they led him into the basement with the cage. Being locked up was always unpleasant, he wanted to run and explore exciting smells and hunt, but something about the unfamiliar man and the strange house with a cage in the basement felt _wrongwrongwrong_. He fought the urge to flatten ears he didn’t yet have and whimper as he apprehensively stepped through the cage door. 

His shoulders tense, Patrick turned to his friends and his dread turned to panic as he watched Pete follow him into the cage. 

“Pete, no, you can’t,” Patrick pleaded, terrified, and tried to push him away, but Pete didn’t budge. 

“I’m not gonna let you do this alone, dude,” Pete kept smiling at him, and Patrick shook his head frantically. He opened his mouth to warn him away, but let out a cry of pain as his spine spasmed suddenly and he collapsed to the ground. 

Patrick’s whole body shook, and he barely registered his clothes being removed as he felt fur begin to grow - an itch spreading across his whole body. He cried out again when his nails were pushed out by newly forming claws, but the sound was choked off as his face grew longer and his teeth sharpened. Every single inch of him ached as bones warped and changed and new muscle formed, but after what seemed like an eternity, the pain faded. 

For a moment, Patrick laid still, his tongue lolled out and panting, but a hand gently scratching at his ears made his suddenly aware of the human sat right next to him. He sprang into action, one huge, clawed paw pushing his prey to the ground as Patrick crouched above him, snarling. He heard a flurry of panicked shouts from behind him, and could feel saliva dripping from his jaws as he stared down at the fearful expression of - _Pete, fuck_. 

Patrick didn’t get a chance to react to the realisation that he had attacked his furless packmate before he was forcefully shoved away by multiple bodies trying to drag him off. There was an arm in his mouth, painfully gripping his head and twisting it away, so he bit down instinctively and relished the crunch of bone and cry of pain it wrought. Pete had run off, and his other packmates watched in horror as he refused to let go until suddenly a sharp, searing pain spread from his chest to his whole body, causing him to scramble back and growl. 

_A cattle-prod_ , some distant part of his mind recognised. The strangeman who smelled wrong brandished it in one hand, while holding his ruined arm close to his chest. His packmates were shouting at the strangeman now, which Patrick knew to be the furless method of growling. One of them grabbed the weapon out of his hand, and Patrick saw his chance, surging forward to sink his teeth into the mans torso. He braced himself against the floor and shook his head violently, until he heard a crack and the screams turned to silence. 

He dropped the body and looked around for his packmates. They had already left the cage and locked the door behind them, and Pete, on the far side of basement, was staring, horrified, at the broken, still man at Patrick’s feet. Patrick cocked his head at him, and barked softly. His furless friends were often disgusted by Patrick’s meals, and avoided watching him eat. Pete’s heart-rate was elevated, Patrick noticed, and he met Patrick’s eyes briefly before hurrying up the stairs and out of sight. 

Patrick turned to his meal, considering, before chewing up the remains of the broken arm. Upstairs, Pete was hyperventilating, and his packmates were trying to comfort him; Patrick could hear this clearly, and remembered with a flash of guilt that he had tried to attack his own packmate. He sank his teeth into his prey’s gut, revealing hot, steaming intestines. What kind of monster could cause such distress in a packmate? His ears flattened at the thought that the sobs he heard were caused by him. 

He was jolted out of his thoughts by the sound of a creak - the door to the cage swung open. Had it not been locked? Patrick left the mangled corpse of his meal, and slowly approached the door to investigate. He was halfway out of the door when he heard footsteps hurrying towards him, and suddenly Joe was at the foot of the stairs, staring at him. Patrick barked. Joe ran back up the stairs and began to speak in frantic tones. 

Patrick started to follow, but paused at the stairs. They were wide enough for him, but Patrick had never gone up stairs in this form before. He carefully placed one paw on the bottom step, before barking loudly. Joe appeared again at the top of the stairwell, and Patrick whined, thumping his paw on the stairs, hoping to communicate his predicament. Joe ran a hand through his hair, looking conflicted, before disappearing again. When he came back, Andy was with him, and descended down to where Patrick was stuck. He said something, in that furless language Patrick couldn’t understand, before lifting both of Patrick’s front paws and holding them above his shoulders. 

Patrick stared uncomprehendingly, before - oh. With his hind legs on the ground, Patrick could walk almost like he could when he was furless. He carefully started to ascend, placing one foot on the bottom step, and Andy smiled at him. Slowly, they made their way up. 

At the top of the stairs, Pete was nowhere to be seen, but Patrick could smell him through a closed door. He began to move in that direction, but found himself blocked by Andy, who was speaking again. Patrick whined, but nonetheless turned to survey the room he found himself in. Joe was sitting on a couch, watching him intently. Patrick approached, and heard Joe’s breathing quicken as he jumped onto the couch next to him, but Patrick elected to ignore this in favour of curling up and dropping his head into Joe’s lap. The couch was comfortable, and Patrick was sated and exhausted - there was nothing he wanted to do more than go to sleep surrounded by his packmates. 

Joe hesitantly began to scratch Patrick’s ears, and Patrick made a pleased rumbling noise. Joe yelped at the sound, but didn’t stop scratching him, and soon Patrick drifted off, his tail thumping against the couch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this was a weird one and i didnt expect half of these things to happen but there u go i guess. also i made a tumblr blog @peregrinetoad which i will probably never go on but reblog my fics maybe ?? if u want ????


	3. Chapter 3

The moon was setting; Patrick woke up with this knowledge. He whined, resenting the cruel twist of fate that meant he had to leave his soft, warm, comfortable position for the pain of transformation.

Suddenly, the soft pillow he had been resting his head on shifted, and Patrick jerked his head up in surprise.  He met the sleepily blinking eyes of his packmate, and thought,  _ oh. Right _ .

Looking around the room, Patrick caught sight of his other packmates, gradually waking up under a shared blanket. Seeing Pete, he dropped off the couch, seeking the comfort of his packmate during his painful change back as he always did, but stopped in his tracks when Pete shuffled away fearfully. 

Patrick glanced around at his pack, unsure of what to do. Pete was always with him when he changed back, chained up on the bus. Would he have to change without his best friend?

After a moments silence, Pete let out a choked sob and started shuffling towards Patrick, unable to hold back the tears. Patrick watched attentively, unable to discern Pete’s intention.

Pete buried his face in Patrick’s fur, clinging to him like a lifeline. Patrick held himself very still as Pete’s body shook against him. He had no idea what the muffled words Pete babbled meant, but it didn’t matter - Pete was with him while the moon was setting. Assured that his packmate was with him, Patrick laid down and curled up next to him, awaiting the change.

When it started, Patrick almost didn’t notice. His first thought was that Pete had placed a hand on his chest, but Patrick hadn’t heard him move. He became aware of the sensation moments before it spread like wildfire across his body, as if his flesh was being incinerated. Patrick howled, thrashing on the floor with a body that had already started shrinking, before the sound was choked off by his throat and mouth cracking and realigning itself.

He thrust an arm towards Pete, and stopped to stare at the hand gripping his friend tightly. Half his fingers appeared human already, but there were two still clawed and wolfish. With another sudden wave of pain, he saw them snap and shift, changing to fit the rest of his hand, fur and claws retracting back into his flesh. 

Something wrapped around his wrist and Patrick jerked slightly in shock, before realising it was  _ Pete’s hand _ . He met his eyes, and Pete smiled softly at him, before opening his mouth.

“You good?” He asked simply.  _ Words _ . If Patrick understood words, the change was over. Patrick relaxed, and rolled limply onto his back, staring at the ceiling. He heard Andy cough, and felt something warm and soft tossed over him - a blanket, of course. Patrick always forgot about his nakedness after a transformation, the remnants of his animal mind still clinging to him. There was a moments silence, a chance for Patrick to breathe, before Joe spoke.

“Should we talk about… What happened,” he asked tentatively, and Patrick wanted to burrow under his blanket in shame. He had killed someone, and freaked Pete out. He closed his eyes, and when it became clear he wasn’t going to say anything, Pete spoke up.

“We should probably hide the body,” he offered, but Andy shrugged.

“He looks like he was attacked by a wild animal. Nobody would assume it was Patrick,” he pointed out. 

“The sun’s barely risen; if we leave now I doubt anyone will see us,” Patrick spoke for the first time that day, his voice rough with disuse. Slowly, he rose from the ground, struggling due to the soreness in his muscles and almost dropping the blanket before Pete laid a supportive arm around him and held his blanket around him. 

“Someone needs to get Patrick’s clothes,” he called out, without checking to see if anyone listened as he slowly directed Patrick towards the door.

 

\-----

 

Exhausted, Patrick rested his head on Pete’s shoulder as they sat together in the lounge of the bus. The engine was rumbling loudly, and Patrick’s hearing hadn’t gotten any less sensitive. 

“I wasn’t going to eat you,” he said, quite unexpectedly. He felt Pete stiffen next to him.

“No?”

“I would have,” he admitted, “But I did recognise you. I didn’t want - I’d never hurt  _ you _ ,”

“What about the other guy? Andy’s friend?” Pete whispered, making Patrick growl softly.

“He hurt me,” he hissed. “He grabbed me and he hurt me,” Patrick bared his teeth into Pete’s shoulder, suddenly feeling defensive, making Pete pull him into a comforting hug.

“I know, I don’t know why he had a cattle prod. I’m trying not to think about what he must use it for, with that cage in his basement,” he said softly to the wolf in his arms. “You know we’d never hurt you, right?” Pete leaned back, meeting Patrick’s eyes. “If we’d known what he would do, we never would have put you in there,” he declared emphatically, and Patrick was shocked by the weight of his tone. Patrick nodded, before pushing himself towards his friend again, not willing to give up the physical affection he had been enjoying. He wiggled awkwardly under Pete’s arms, still feeling the urge to wag a tail that wasn’t there.

Pete chuckled, and moved to lie back on the couch, giving Patrick room to curl up comfortably on top of him. Patrick shuffled, and settled with his face pushed into Pete’s neck, breathing in the comforting smell of his packmate. Pete reached up to play with Patrick’s hair, and Patrick made a satisfied noise into his skin. 

“You’re a spoiled dog, you know that?” Pete muttered, and Patrick growled playfully. He’d paused the delightful caress of Patrick’s hair, and Patrick indignantly wondered if he hadn’t made it clear enough he was enjoying that. The hand in his hair started moving again, and Patrick relaxed, satisfied, letting his body fall limp on top of the warmth of his packmate. He listened to Pete’s breathing, and his heartbeat, the steady sound a welcome distraction from everything he had done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am literally begging for attention  
> patrick is just........... a litle creacher. Thatse It . He Canot change this  
> im on tumblr @peregrinetoad so u can reblog my fics if u want

**Author's Note:**

> Will i update this fic earlier than 6 months from now? Will i update this fic ever? well thats just one of lifes great mysteries :)


End file.
